


A New Day

by karcathy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:37:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk and Roxy find some comfort in the aftermath of Trickster Mode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a request for fanficstuck.tumblr.com  
> Please request more fics! (please)

You won’t say you’re not sad about breaking up with Jake, because you are. You’re sad you ended it and you’re sad you had to end it and you’re sad Jake made you end it. You’re so sad that even trickster mode didn’t make you happy. But then, you wouldn’t really want that sort of happiness. It didn’t really look like the others were happy. It certainly didn’t feel like you were happy.

 

After it was over, and you could actually have a sane conversation, you go straight to Roxy. You still aren’t really thinking straight, but you need to talk to someone. You just need someone to listen, and say comforting things. Maybe give you a hug. Tell you everything will be okay.

“Roxy,” you say, sitting down next to her.

“Dirk,” she replies, not looking at you.

You pause for a moment, trying to get your thoughts straight.

“I’m sorry,” you say, eventually, “I just... I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t reply for a long time, and you don’t blame her. After everything, sorry isn’t enough.

“It’s okay,” she says, “Well... It’s not okay, but that’s okay. I think.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you, and sit in silence for a moment.

“How do you feel?” she asks, after a while, “About Jake.”

You pause, then say “Disappointed.”

“I guess... when you build someone up to be a person they’re not, in your head, and base your love on that... It never works. It’s too... fake.”

You nod.

“He wasn’t who I thought he was. Who I imagined he was.”

It’s her turn to nod now.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, gently patting your shoulder, “Or his.”

The second part is added like an afterthought, but it hits you like a bullet. You realise you probably were blaming him for not living up to your expectations.

“Who’s fault is it, then?” you ask, hanging your head morosely, your forearms resting gently on your knees and your hands dangling, loosely holding each other.

“It’s no ones fault,” she says, and she shifts over closer to you, so she can wrap her arm around your shoulder.

You stay frozen, not responding to her touch.

“It’s not fair,” you say, sighing.

“Nothing is.”

You rub your eyes under your shades, telling yourself you’re not going to cry, and lean into Roxy, so you’re resting your head on the inside of her shoulder. She rubs your shoulder gently, not saying anything. You stay like that, your eyes closed, waiting for the tears to go away. You’re glad you have your shades to hide the tears – to hide every emotion your eyes might betray. You’re even more glad you have Roxy.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” she says, leaning her cheek against your head.

“I know,” you say, in a tiny voice.

And you do. You cry more than you’ve ever cried before. Roxy takes your shades, and lets your tears soak her shoulder, and she hugs you until you’ve cried all the tears you have to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and add a “Thank you.”

Wiping the last of the tears away, you sit up, taking back your shades and giving her a shaky smile.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says, smiling back at you, her own eyes shining with tears.

“You know what? I think it is.”

You watch the sun rise, tears drying on your cheeks. You begin to feel almost peaceful. You think that, in time, you might even be happy.

“I’m sorry,” you say, wrapping your arm around her shoulder, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be.”

“I’m sorry too,” she says, leaning in and resting her head on your chest.

“You can cry if you want to,” you say.

She cries a little, leaving a damp patch on your shirt, but not much. Not as much as you did. You think that maybe you’ve both cried more than enough to last a lifetime. You know that you’ll cry much, much more in the future. You think that’s probably okay.

“It’s going to be all right,” you say, as the sun climbs higher in the sky and day begins, “It might even be more than all right.”

“I think it’s going to be whatever we make it,” she says, standing up, then reaching down to help you up.

“I think so too,” you say.

You link arms, and, together, you walk off into the new day. It might not be okay, it might not be all right, but it would be yours, and that’s enough for now. It could be enough forever.  


End file.
